Contents
-BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tempest.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Scene I
Act V
[Before Prospero’s cell]
Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL
Pros.Now does my project gather to a head.My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and TimeGoes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?Ari.On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,You said our work should cease.Pros.I did say so,When first I rais’d the tempest. Say, my spirit,How fares the King and ’s followers?Ari.Confin’d togetherIn the same fashion as you gave in charge,Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;They cannot budge till your release. The King,His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,And the remainder mourning over them,Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chieflyHim that you term’d, sir, “The good old lord, Gonzalo,”His tears run down his beard, like winter’s dropsFrom eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’emThat if you now beheld them, your affectionsWould become tender.Pros.Dost thou think so, spirit?Ari.Mine would, sir, were I human.Pros.And mine shall.Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feelingOf their afflictions, and shall not myself,One of their kind, that relish all as sharplyPassion as they, be kindlier mov’d than thou art?Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick.Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my furyDo I take part. The rarer action isIn virtue than in vengeance. They being penitent,The sole drift of my purpose doth extendNot a frown further. Go release them, Ariel.My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,And they shall be themselves.Ari.I’ll fetch them, sir.Exit.Pros.Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,And ye that on the sands with printless footDo chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly himWhen he comes back; you demi-puppets thatBy moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastimeIs to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoiceTo hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm’dThe noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous windsAnd ’twixt the green sea and the azur’d vaultSet roaring war; to the dread rattling thunderHave I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oakWith his own bolt; the strong-bas’d promontoryHave I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d upThe pine and cedar; graves at my commandHave wak’d their sleepers, op’d, and let ’em forthBy my so potent art. But this rough magicI here abjure, and, when I have requir’dSome heavenly music, which even now I do,To work mine end upon their senses thatThis airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff,Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,And deeper than did ever plummet soundI’ll drown my book.Solemn music.Here enters ARIEL before: then ALONZO, with a frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO. They all enter the circle which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO observing, speaks
A solemn air and the best comforterTo an unsettled fancy cure thy brains,Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand,For you are spell-stopp’d.Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,Mine eyes, even sociable to the shew of thine,Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,And as the morning steals upon the night,Melting the darkness, so their rising sensesBegin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantleTheir clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,My true preserver, and a loyal sirTo him thou follow’st! I will pay thy gracesHome both in word and deed. Most cruellyDidst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter.Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.Thou art pinch’d for ’t now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition,Expell’d remorse and nature, whom, with Sebastian,Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,Would here have kill’d your king, I do forgive thee,Unnatural though thou art. Their understandingBegins to swell, and the approaching tideWill shortly fill the reasonable shoreThat now lies foul and muddy. Not one of themThat yet looks on me, or would know me! Ariel,Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell;I will discase me, and myself presentAs I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit;Thou shalt ere long be free.ARIEL sings and helps to attire him
Ari.“Where the bee sucks, there suck I.In a cowslip’s bell I lie;There I couch when owls do cry.On the bat’s back I do flyAfter summer merrily.Merrily, merrily shall I live nowUnder the blossom that hangs on the bough.”Pros.Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;But yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so.To the King’s ship, invisible as thou art;There shalt thou find the mariners asleepUnder the hatches. The master and the boatswainBeing awake, enforce them to this place,And presently, I prithee.Ari.I drink the air before me, and returnOr ere your pulse twice beat.Exit.Gon.All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazementInhabits here. Some heavenly power guide usOut of this fearful country!Pros.Behold, sir King,The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero.For more assurance that a living princeDoes now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;And to thee and thy company I bidA hearty welcome.Alon.Whe’er thou be’st he or no,Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,As late I have been, I not know. Thy pulseBeats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,The affliction of my mind amends, with whichI fear, a madness held me. This must crave,An if this be at all, a most strange story,Thy dukedom I resign and do entreatThou pardon me my wrongs. But how should ProsperoBe living and be here?Pros.First, noble friend,Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannotBe measur’d or confin’d.Gon.Whether this beOr be not, I’ll not swear.Pros.You do yet tasteSome subtleties o’ the isle, that will not let youBelieve things certain. Welcome, my friends all![Aside to SEB. and ANT.]But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,I here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon youAnd justify you traitors. At this timeI will tell no tales.Seb.[Aside.]The devil speaks in him.Pros.No.For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brotherWould even infect my mouth, I do forgiveThy rankest fault; all of them; and requireMy dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,Thou must restore.Alon.If thou be’st Prospero,Give us particulars of thy preservation,How thou hast met us here, whom three hours sinceWere wreck’d upon this shore, where I have lost—How sharp the point of this remembrance is!—My dear son Ferdinand.Pros.I am woe for ’t, sir.Alon.Irreparable is the loss, and PatienceSays it is past her cure.Pros.I rather thinkYou have not sought her help, of whose soft graceFor the like loss I have her sovereign aidAnd rest myself content.Alon.You the like loss!Pros.As great to me as late; and, supportableTo make the dear loss, have I means much weakerThan you may call to comfort you, for IHave lost my daughter.Alon.A daughter?O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,The King and Queen there! That they were, I wishMyself were mudded in that oozy bedWhere my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?Pros.In this last tempest. I perceive, these lordsAt this encounter do so much admireThat they devour their reason and scarce thinkTheir eyes do offices of truth, their wordsAre natural breath; but, howsoe’er you haveBeen justled from your senses, know for certainThat I am Prospero and that very dukeWhich was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangelyUpon this shore, where you were wreck’d, was landed,To be the lord on ’t. No more yet of this;For ’tis a chronicle of day by day,Not a relation for a breakfast norBefitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;This cell’s my court. Here have I few attendants,And subjects none abroad. Pray you, look in.My dukedom since you have given me again,I will requite you with as good a thing;At least bring forth a wonder, to content yeAs much as me my dukedom.Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess
Mir.Sweet lord, you play me false.Fer.No, my dearest love,I would not for the world.Mir.Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,And I would call it fair play.Alon.If this proveA vision of the island, one dear sonShall I twice lose.Seb.A most high miracle!Fer.Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;I have curs’d them without cause.[Kneels.]Alon.Now all the blessingsOf a glad father compass thee about!Arise, and say how thou cam’st here.Mir.O, wonder!How many goodly creatures are there here!How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,That has such people in ’t!Pros.’Tis new to thee.Alon.What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours.Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us,And brought us thus together?Fer.Sir, she is mortal,But by immortal Providence she’s mine.I chose her when I could not ask my fatherFor his advice, nor thought I had one. SheIs daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,Of whom so often I have heard renown,But never saw before; of whom I haveReceiv’d a second life; and second fatherThis lady makes him to me.Alon.I am hers,But, O, how oddly will it sound that IMust ask my child forgiveness!Pros.There, sir, stop.Let us not burden our remembrances withA heaviness that’s gone.Gon.I have inly wept,Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods,And on this couple drop a blessed crown!For it is you that have chalk’d forth the wayWhich brought us hither.Alon.I say, Amen, Gonzalo!Gon.Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issueShould become Kings of Naples? O, rejoiceBeyond a common joy, and set it downWith gold on lasting pillars: in one voyageDid Claribel her husband find a Tunis,And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wifeWhere he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedomIn a poor isle, and all of us ourselvesWhen no man was his own.Alon.[To FER. and MIR.]Give me your hands.Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heartThat doth not wish you joy!Gon.Be it so! Amen!Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following
O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us.I prophesi’d, if a gallows were on land,This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on shore?Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?